Gustavo.
Gustavo wins a freaking medal. We had listening and we had teamwork, all at the same time. He could not put a foot wrong. Well, not very wrong. He ran a beautiful standard, not perfect due to the table snafu, which is captured here in all it's Gustavoness. And a bit of a flakey teeter totter. But how could I be sad over those? He focused with all his might, every single run.
His jumpers was a thing of beauty. Also, doesn't it look like I'm wearing jammies? That's my sporty pants outfit.
He ran a perfect pairs, usually I don't even enter him in pairs thinking not to burden a partner with potential maelstrom of insane weirdo vortexes, but I am thinking 2012 is where I just go, whatever, and run him. So we did, and his partner E'd, not him.
His gamblers, lovely except didn't carry out to the first part of the gamble, so that was that. Maybe a couple wide turns, until the end starting into the gamble. Honestly, at this point in his life, if he is sticking close to me and making a tight turn, I just can't worry about it that much.
So was it the practicing we've been doing? Maturity? Stockholm syndrome from being held prisoner in the car all day? I dunno. But we sure did have a fun day running.